Chapter 793: Wrong from the Very Beginning

Chapter 793: Wrong from the Very Beginning

Due to the heavy sedative injection and the severe mental shock she'd suffered, Molly didn't wake up until the following morning.

As for Eric — his strong but rigid body, like a statue, still stood motionless in the villa courtyard, where a thin layer of frost had formed. He stood there alone, his entire body long since numb from the cold, completely without feeling. His handsome face was drained of all color, and he barely dared to breathe.

Because he knew his body was nearly at its limit.

But he truly didn't want to leave. He stubbornly held onto the hope that when his girl opened her eyes, the first thing she would see would be him.

How had things come to this? Not long ago, they had been together day and night, wrapped up in each other. And now, just catching a single glimpse of her had become something he could only dream of.

Lost in a daze, Eric faintly heard a set of quick but steady footsteps approaching.

"Eric, let me take you home." Edward's deep, magnetic voice carried a hint of reproach, but beneath it was an unmistakable, intense concern. "You've gone too far. Putting yourself through this isn't going to solve anything."

"Ha..." Eric lowered his lashes, heavy with the cold mist. "Back then, when you were trying to make things right with Evelyn and beg her family's forgiveness, you spent plenty of nights standing outside the Taylor Estate too. So why is it that when I do the same thing, it's suddenly a problem?"

Edward felt the words hit a sore spot. His throat tightened. "Our situations are different."

"How are they different? I want Mr. Wellington's forgiveness too. I want to see my wife. What's so different about that?" Eric's emotions surged, and his mind went blank. His completely drained body pitched forward involuntarily.

"Eric!" Edward's arms shot out and caught him.

"Edward... I miss my wife." Eric pressed his swollen, tear-reddened eyes hard against Edward's broad shoulder, his chest heaving as he gasped in the cold air, his voice hoarse. "Not being able to see Molly... it feels like my heart has been ripped right out of me."

He raised his numb fist and slammed it against his chest. "It really hurts so much... Edward, I feel like it's killing me."

"Come on, let me take you to the hospital first," Edward said, his large hand patiently patting Eric's trembling back. "We'll get you a full checkup. Then you'll come back to the apartment with me and Evelyn, get some proper sleep, and let May look after you. When you wake up, I promise — I'll make sure you get to see Molly."

......

After a lot of back and forth, Edward and Glenn, who had rushed over, finally managed to get Eric into the car.

In the VIP room of a private hospital, Eric lay exhausted on the bed with an IV drip running, a hollow, sickly cough escaping his chest again and again.

"Sir, I've had all the unauthorized videos taken down through legal channels, and the PR team has fully suppressed the negative coverage and malicious comments targeting Mrs. Clark." Glenn stood at the bedside looking worn out, his eyes ringed with dark circles and shot with red — he'd clearly been up all night. "I know it might not change much right now, but I truly believe that as long as you don't give up and stay by her side... things will slowly get better."

Eric stared up at the cold white ceiling, exhausted. "Glenn, thank you."

"Please don't say that, sir. Serving you and Mrs. Clark is my duty." Glenn shook his head quickly, flustered.

Edward, sitting nearby, finally spoke, his expression dark. "Eric, those old foxes in the Clark family — they've been lying low this whole time. Why did they suddenly choose this exact moment to go after Molly? And why did they zero in so precisely on her mental health history? Something about this feels very off."

"At yesterday's board meeting, Neil played the security footage of Molly's episode in front of all the major shareholders. He even produced the original copy of her psychiatric diagnosis." Eric's hand gripped the bedsheet, the veins on the back of his hand standing out sharply.

"What did you say?" Edward's brow furrowed hard, his eyes sharp as a blade.

"Looking back now... this whole thing was wrong from the start." Eric pushed himself up. "When Neil produced that classified report, Grandfather — sitting at the head of the table — showed not even a flicker of surprise. He didn't even glance at the document. Which means before the board meeting was ever called, he already knew everything about Molly's condition, and he'd allowed that report to exist. He was letting Neil run with it from the beginning, playing along to force me out. But here's the question — that medical file is one of the Wellington Group's highest-level family secrets. What back channels did Neil use to get his hands on it? Your grandfather and Mr. Wellington would never have leaked it. And Tiffany is dead."

"Who else could it be but Debra?" A flash of cold fury crossed Edward's eyes. "Tiffany and Debra were thick as thieves. Everything they had — every card they held, every resource — they shared. Tiffany was falling apart in her final years, addicted to drugs, willing to do anything to squeeze out whatever she could from the family. Debra, even as a Wellington by blood, would never have had clearance to access something that sensitive. The only explanation is that Tiffany left it with her as a trump card before she died."

"Debra... actually teamed up with Neil?" Eric's pupils shrank.

"Don't forget — you've got a sister of your own who's just as good at playing puppet master from the shadows." A cold, bitter smile crossed Edward's lips. "Jessica and Debra have always been close in their social circles. Having your sister act as the go-between, brokering this little alliance for mutual gain — it fits perfectly." In the Alexander family, every scheme ran through Gilbert. In the Clark Group, Jessica was the one always lighting fires in the dark. Two ruthless, self-serving players who'd stop at nothing for their own interests — and they'd found each other.

Just then, Bart's call came through.

Edward put it on speaker. "Bart, what did you find?"

"Mr. Wellington, we just got word from the undercover team keeping round-the-clock watch on Riverside Villa. Late last night, Debra slipped out alone and drove to that private hilltop club in the western suburbs."

Edward exchanged a dark look with Eric across the room. "Who did she meet there?"

"Our people staked it out for most of the night. Shortly after Debra left, Jessica and Austin — the mayor's son — came out of the club one after the other. To avoid drawing attention, they didn't share a car. They each got into their own vehicles and left separately."